Supernatural Sister
by AgentOstrovich
Summary: Kellie is the younger sister of Dean and Sam Winchester. They have a happy, yet different kind of family. Dad is a loving, but strict father who demands obedience, respect, and responsibility. Together this family must overcome the ultimate challenge of good vs. evil. Told from Kellie's point of view; Hero Dean. Parental Spanking. Do not read if this offends you.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: My Substitute

I lay on my bed listening to my brother and father as they talked in the other room. I knew that the time for my conversation with Dad would come soon enough, but until then I just lay there wishing that he would let Dean off the hook this one time. But I knew that would not happen. Our family lived by a strict code of honor and discipline. Dad expected instant obedience, respect, and dependability; he knew that our very lives depended on it. I say expected, but it was demanded, and quick and thorough justice was handed out if any of the rules were broken. It wasn't that dad didn't love us; he did! We loved him too, but our lifestyle required more guidance and direction than a normal family. Dad was just the right person to provide that guidance and direction in a way that our mistakes were not usually made more than once. My former marine dad and his belt left a lasting impression that made us think long and hard before doing anything questionable in the foreseeable future.

Dad was always especially hard on Dean because he was the oldest, and because of that, more was expected of him. He was also our surrogate father when dad was away on hunts, and so he was expected to be a perfect example for Sam and me to follow. I always hated how harsh Dad was with Dean. Dean was my best friend. I loved Sam too, but Dean was special. He was always very patient with me, explaining things that I didn't understand, helping me with my reading and math, and protecting and comforting me when I was scared or upset. He had even occasionally taken the blame for things that Sam or I had done, and consequently received the painful punishment in our place.

I will never forget the time that I had forgotten to lock the doors on the Impala. Since I was usually the last one out of the car, it was my job to make sure that the doors were always locked. That day I had won a prize in school for getting the highest grade on the math test, and I was so excited to show dad my blue ribbon. In my excitement and haste, I forgot all about the doors. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, someone broke into the Impala that night and stole my dad's camera, binoculars, and lock pick. As soon as I heard my dad call my name in that fearsome tone of voice, I knew that I was in deep trouble, and my heart dropped into my stomach.

"Kellie! Front and Center!"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Isn't it your job to make sure that all of the doors are locked on the car when we come inside?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, they weren't locked last night, and someone stole my camera, binoculars, and lock pick. Do you know how expensive those things are? It could have been worse, too. They could have stolen the car, and then what would we do? We would be up a creek without a paddle."

"Oh, Dad. I'm sorry! I must have forgotten."

"Kellie, that is part of your responsibility. You know what happens when you break the rules. Go wait in your room. I'll be there in a minute, and we'll talk about this further."

"Yes, sir."

It was at that point that Dean stepped forward and said, "Dad, I think it was my fault. I needed to get something out of the car after we came inside. I must have left the car unlocked when I went back. I'm sorry."

I looked at Dean carefully. I didn't remember him going back outside to the car last night. I remembered that he had come straight inside, did his chores, worked on his homework, and then went to bed right after supper. He had said that he was so tired from basketball practice and needed some extra sleep because of an exam that he had the next day. Then I knew! Dean was taking the blame for something that I had done. I looked at him with pleading eyes, but he quickly gave me a quick and barely noticeable shake of his head. I knew that it was a point of no return. Dean had laid himself on the line to save me from a good whipping, and now he would get one regardless of the reason. If I told dad that it wasn't Dean's fault, he would know that Dean had lied. Dean would probably get a worse whipping for lying to dad and covering for me than he would for forgetting to lock the doors. So I remained silent. I was so grateful to Dean for taking this upon his own shoulders, but I also felt horrible as dad told him to go wait in his room.

I guiltily watched as dad walked back to Dean and Sam's room and shut the door. I stood stiffly and waited until I heard the first lash of the belt as it connected with Dean's jean-clad rear, and tears slid down my face as I heard Dean let out a slight "Ah!" after about ten licks. I knew this would not be the worst spanking that Dean would ever suffer, but the fact that he was willingly taking it for me, made me hate each and every stroke that much more. It wasn't until dad quietly opened the door a few minutes later that I realized that I had not moved from my original position. I quickly ducked my head, looked at my feet, and turned to walk back to my room. As I passed dad, he softly said, "You owe him one. Don't forget that."

I couldn't believe it; Dad had known all along! He knew that I was the one who forgot to lock the doors. He knew that Dean had lied to prevent me from getting a spanking. He knew that I had let Dean take the punishment for me without any protest. Dad knew that I was guilty and Dean was innocent, but he still punished him. I couldn't help but respectfully ask, "Then, Dad, why did you give Dean the whipping?"

"It was his choice. He made a choice to sacrifice himself for you. I wasn't going to take that away from him. I hope you realize how much Dean loves you. He is very protective of you; to the point that he would willingly take a whipping that he knew you deserved. In some ways, it was easier for him to bear the pain of the lashing rather than for him to endure the sounds of you getting a spanking. I hope this cements in your mind the relationship that you and Dean share. It is a very special one, and not one that should be taken for granted. I need to know that you, Sam, and Dean all have such a special bond; a bond in which you are all willing to sacrifice your wants for the needs of the others."

"Yes, sir."

"Kellie, I won't do this again. You must be responsible for your own actions. However, I thought this was an excellent opportunity to demonstrate a very important point. I hope you understand my intention.

"Yes, sir. I do."

"And Kellie, let's keep this just between you and me. Okay?"

"Yes, sir."

My thoughts were quickly returned to the present as I heard the familiar sound of leather smacking denim. I knew that my date with destiny was next, and I began to feel that uncomfortable sickness in the pit of my stomach. For now, all that I could do, was pray that dad would show some compassion on his three wayward children, but that wasn't likely. I knew that we had committed one of the worst offenses according to the rules of John Winchester, and I'm sure we were going to pay dearly.

This is my first fanfiction story! Please review. It would mean so much if you would let me know what you think. Should I continue the story?


	2. Chapter 2: Physical Training

Chapter 2: Physical Training

It was a little past 0400, and Sam was setting a rigorous pace for us on our five-mile run. I wasn't sure if he was overzealous to get back in dad's good graces or if he was just angry at the whole circumstances. More than Dean or I, Sam felt that dad's methods were antiquated and unjust. He regularly harassed Dean for always being "a good little soldier" and "not thinking for himself." Dean would always respond with, "It's called being a good son", but I could tell that deep down he felt humiliated by Sam's comments. I knew that Sam would not run off and leave Dean and me, but I was afraid that if he kept running at this pace, I wouldn't have the strength to complete the other PT that Dad had planned for us when we returned home. I knew that we were in for numerous push-ups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks, and I was sure that Dad would find several other exercises that would help us remember how important it was to follow his orders.

As I continued to run, my thoughts kept returning to my conversation with dad last night. He was very frustrated with all three of us, but he was extremely upset with Sam and me. He knew that Dean would not have disobeyed his direct order to never set foot in Carol's Diner if he had not been persuaded by us. Sam and I knew we weren't supposed to go there, but we were so thirsty. We didn't think that it would hurt to just get a coke and quickly leave, and of course, dad would never need to know. Unfortunately for us, dad just happened to drive-by as we were coming out of the diner. He quickly slammed on his brakes and made a sharp U-turn. The look that he leveled at us as he emerged from the car caused us to wither where we stood. We had been given a direct order by our father, and we had directly disobeyed that standing order. There was no greater grievance in the house of John Winchester.

We all knew the consequences for disobeying dad's orders, and so our fate was sealed. There was no arguing, begging, or crying that would change dad's mind; in fact, those shenanigans usually resulted in a worse punishment. We had known that this was a possibility when we decided to go into that place of ill repute, and there was no excuse that would persuade my father that we had a legitimate reason for being there. Even though Dean had only gone inside to keep an eye on Sam and me, and he had refused to even take a swallow of the coke that we had purchased, Dean knew that in dad's eyes, he was guilty as well. He never even offered up a reason for his disobedience or tried to place the blame on me or Sam. He just shamefacedly admitted that he had heard dad's orders, and that he had willfully gone inside the forbidden place of business.

I was beginning to get very winded, and I wasn't sure if I could go much further, when I heard Dean say, "Sammy, I think we need a breather. Let's take a five minute rest under this tree over here." I sent Dean an appreciative smile as we all flopped onto the ground. It felt so good to just lie there in the soft grass and breathe in the fresh air. Once again I was reminded of how truly special our family was. How many other families spent most of their time travelling in a car together, staying in cheap motels at least eight or nine times a month, or hunting mostly unheard of deadly supernatural creatures? I know that by most people's standards, we would be considered a dysfunctional family, but in reality, we were probably the most functional family alive. We followed orders; well, most of the time, showed absolute respect to our father and most adults, maintained an exercise regimen for health and fitness, all while maintaining the appearance of the typical American family.

As all this was sweeping through my thoughts, I heard Dean say, "Sammy, what's up? You trying to beat a personal record or something?"

"Why?" Sam asked sullenly.

"The pace, Dude. I thought you were heading to fight a fire or something. Don't forget, this is not our only PT today. You might want to slow down a little. You don't want to have a heart attack. Besides, Sis is really struggling to keep up."

"Hey! Speak for yourself!" I proclaimed slapping his arm, even though I knew that it was true.

"You don't have to tell me. I'm quite familiar with dad's overactive imagination when it comes to cruel and unusual punishment. He really needs to get a grip!"

"Don't even start it, Sam", said Dean in his most authoritative voice.

"What? I guess you think this is fair! You didn't even do anything except follow his other order to always keep an eye on Kellie and Sammy. You were in trouble either way. How is that fair?"

"It doesn't matter, Sam. Just let it go."

I quickly interrupted the conversation before it became a full-blown, heated argument, "Come on boys. We better get going. I've rested enough."

We returned to our run, but at a more comfortable pace for which I was very thankful. I knew that Dean could have easily passed me and matched stride with Sam, but he always kept himself just a step or two behind me to watch for any dangers that may be coming up from our rear. It was very comforting to know that Dean was always there to protect me and Sammy. I understood why Sam got mad when Dean didn't defend himself. It just didn't seem fair that he got in the same trouble that we did, even when he was just being the protector that he had been trained to be since he was four years old. However, he and Dad didn't see it that way, and so Dean willingly accepted whatever consequences that dad deemed appropriate. I would never understand why dad was so hard-core Marine when it came to Dean, but I supposed he had his reasons; he just didn't care to share them with us.

We were nearing the end of our run when I tripped over an exposed root from a large tree. Unfortunately, Dean could not stop in time, and so he ended up head-over-heels on top of me. We looked quite a site, I'm sure, with arms and legs intertwined as we rolled ungracefully to a sudden stop. The breath was knocked clean out of me for a few seconds, but eventually I was able to breathe again. Then I saw Dean's pale, shocked face as I heard him say, "Kellie, Kellie, are you ok? I'm so sorry. Kellie, Don't move. Please forgive me." I started to give him a rough shove and tell him to get off of me, when I saw it—my arm was a mangled mass of blood.


	3. Chapter 3: The Gift

Chapter 3: The Gift

The next few hours went by in a swirling whirlwind of activity and chaos. I faintly heard Dean scream to Sam, "Go! Quickly! Get dad!" The next thing that I heard was dad yelling, "Dean, how could you have let this happen? Baby, it's going to be ok; be very still." I was vaguely aware of being put into the Impala and being driven at a break-neck speed to the nearest emergency room. Lights glared into my eyes; doctors and nurses scrambled quickly around the curtain enclosed room. I seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness, but in the background I kept hearing dad say, "Baby! It's ok. You're going to be fine. It's alright! Honey, I'm sorry; I'm so sorry."

Eventually, the doctors came back into the room and explained things to my dad. I had a compound fracture that would require surgery to repair. I would have a steel rod with several pins put into my arm to hold the bone immobile while it healed. With a nod of his head, he signed the paperwork to authorize the surgery. Nurses then began the arduous job of preparing me for the upcoming event. I was given an IV and some medication to help calm any nerves that I might experience. I was changed into a hospital gown and given a nice thermal blanket to help keep me warm. I was becoming very sleepy, but I could hear daddy as I closed my eyes, "Doctor, Take care of my baby!"

My eyes suddenly opened, and I looked around the room. However, it did not look anything like I expected; there were no bright lights or doctors and nurses milling around. It was actually rather dark, and then I noticed the cross in the front of the room and the benches in a row from the front to the back. As the room became more focused and brighter, I noticed someone sitting near the front of the room. As I examined him closer, it suddenly dawned upon me that I was looking at my brother Dean. He was hunched slightly forward with his hands clasped in his lap, and as I moved closer to him, I could hear that he was muttering to himself. No, it seemed that he was talking to someone, but no one else was present in the room. Making my way closer to Dean, I began to hear the words that he was saying. "Oh God, I know I don't come to you often enough, but I hope that you will hear me. It's my sister, Kellie, and she's hurt really bad. God, she has to have surgery on her broken arm, and I'm so scared for her. She's my responsibility, Lord. I'm supposed to keep her safe, and I did a lousy job of it. I know that Dad probably hates me right now, and I don't really blame him. Lord, if at possible, please be with Kellie and help her arm to heal right. Oh God, why couldn't it have been me instead of Kellie?" As I watched Dean pray to God, I saw one lonely tear trickle out of his right eye and slide down his scruffy cheek. I was moving toward Dean to give him a hug and let him know that I was going to be ok, when the room began to darken once again, and before I could reach Dean, I must have fallen asleep.

My eyes opened again, and like last time, my surroundings seemed unfocused and dim. However, the longer that I stood within the room, the lighter and clearer the room became. I looked around, and it seemed that I was in a waiting room of some kind. There were several chairs occupying the wall space; a flat screen television, that had been muted, hung on the adjacent wall, and there was a desk that stood in the corner with a telephone on it. There were several people sitting in the chairs; some were in conversation while others seemed to be trying to get some sleep. It was then I saw my dad sitting over in a corner alone. He looked so forlorn, weary, and distraught. I just wanted to go and comfort him in some way, but I wasn't sure how to do that. Then he began to move toward the desk, and I heard the telephone as the ring disrupted the relative quiet of the sanctuary.

"Hello", he said, "this is John Winchester. Yes. I've been waiting for your call. Well, I'm glad to hear that she appears strong. Good, Good. Thank you. Yes. I'll be here waiting for your next update. Thank you once again."

My father's shoulders showed some sign of relief as he talked to the voice on the other end of the connection. I could only assume that it was a nurse giving him an update on my condition during the surgery. I wish that I could help him relax some more, but I knew that he would be tense and anxious until I was back home where I belonged. I was watching him return to his seat in the corner, when the vision began to fade once again.

Slowly, I began to awake from my sleep-induced state, and once again, my surroundings seemed very unfamiliar. I was beginning to get used to the immediate blur and slowly lightening scenery, but this time it seemed very different. First of all, it was very loud in my new location and it was extremely crowded. My nose was assaulted by a myriad of odors, most were extremely appetizing, but one smell seemed to overpower all of the rest. It took me just a moment to realize it was a smell with which I was very accustomed. The delicious smell of grilled hamburgers and French fries with ketchup assaulted my senses, and I felt my stomach begin to rumble with hunger. I remembered that I had not had any breakfast that morning, and it probably was well past lunchtime. I wished that I could indulge myself into enjoying a juicy ground beef burger, but I knew that was not what I was here to do.

As before, I looked around the large cafeteria until I saw the person that I knew would be waiting here. Sam sat at a round table eating a salad and a yogurt while drinking a large mineral water. There were times that it was hard to believe that Sam was Dean and my brother; his eating habits and other idiosyncrasies were so different from ours. However, under all of his mop of unruly hair and his genius-like demeanor, he was 100% Winchester, and because of that, his facial expression was one of sincere concern. Not one to let his emotions get the best of him, Sam was serenely reading the latest research on his laptop. I unobtrusively glanced over his shoulder to see what was displayed on the screen. I was surprised to see that he was conducting a search on compound fractures, treatment, rehabilitation, and likely outcomes. I should have known that Sam would handle his uncertainty about my situation through academic measures; he would inquire and read every bit of information that could be provided to him until he was confident that he knew everything that would be most beneficial to my recovery. Sam's diligence and preparation filled me with a sense of serenity and tranquility.

Not really understanding how, I was certain that my surgery was nearing its end. Somehow, I had been given a gift; instead of lying helplessly on an operating table while my arm was repaired, I had been allowed to visit with my precious family. I saw for myself how very loved I was; I was able to feel the strength being showered upon me by the men in my life. Each member of my family handled difficult situations in very different ways, yet, each one showed compassion, strength of character, and courage. Dean, shouldering the responsibility of one much older, would stay by my side; selflessly bearing the burden of my care. Sam would use his intellect to provide me with the best knowledge of the latest and best methods of recuperation. Finally, my father would resiliently see that I gained full recovery and use of my arm through his sheer determination and grit. I was a very fortunate girl. Many would laugh at such a statement because of our family's lack of finances, our loss of my mother, and the instability of my home-life; but no greater legacy could be given to a child than for the absolute security that comes from being loved. Yes, the days ahead would be difficult and exhausting, but I can venture forth with pride and confidence knowing that my family will be by my side.

"Kellie! Wake up, Kellie! You're out of surgery!"

Please review. This is my first fanfiction, and it really encourages me when you tell me what you think about my writing.


	4. Chapter 4: Why Daddy?

Chapter 4: Why, Daddy?

As my eyes slowly opened, I focused in on one particular face. Dean stood over me with tears pooling in his eyes. I could tell by the tight clench of his jaws that he was using every fiber of his being to keep them from spilling over onto his face, and his face could not mask the strain of fear that was written there. I knew that Dean had been internally chastising himself for allowing me to get hurt during our physical training session, but I also knew that it was not by any fault of his; it had simply been an accident. I hoped that I would eventually be able to convince him of this and absolve him from any guilt that he was feeling.

Sam stood on my other side, staring intently at my face. I could see concern on his face as well, but not the gut-wrenching guilt that was evidenced by Dean's expression. I knew that by Sam's very analytical nature, he would have already categorized this event as an accident that could have happened to any of us. If anything, Sam would have placed any blame squarely upon Dad's shoulders for requiring us to do such intensive training in the first place. I was glad that Sam could look at things so pragmatically, because at least I only had one brother that needed help releasing himself from any guilt. I would have my hands full helping Dean forgive himself for something over which he had no control.

My eyes began to look around the room? I was still having a difficult time processing information in my drug-induced mind-fog, but I immediately sensed that there was something missing. Slowly, a face began to materialize in front of my eyes, but then I realized that the face was just an illusion. Daddy? Where was my dad?

"Daddy? Where's Daddy? Dean? Sam? Where is Daddy?"

"Relax, Baby. It's ok. Dad had to leave for a while. He'll be back before too long", replied Dean.

"Dean, where did he go? Why isn't he here?"

"He was here the whole time you were in surgery. He was very worried about you. I don't remember when I've ever seen him so worried. I tell you he was ready to rip me a new one, but he was too worried to leave you alone. He just said, 'You wait till we get home.' Boy, I knew he was scared silly about your hand and having to have surgery. He finally relaxed a little bit when the nurse came and told us you were out of surgery and doing fine."

I couldn't believe that Dean had said so much in one breath. He hardly ever talked that much or that fast. I could tell that he was hiding something from me by the way that he was rambling on and on, and by the fact that he would not look at me while he was talking. With all that he had said, he still hadn't answered my question.

"Dean, where is Dad?"

"Well, you know how Dad is with work and all. He said that since he knew you were ok, and since Sam and I could take care of you as well as anyone; he might as well get back on the job. He left just a few minutes ago, really. He said he would be back before you even realized that he was gone, and definitely before you were released from the hospital."

Dean stopped talking finally, and looked at my face. He could see the disappointment and fear that was there. My heart was broken. How could he? How could my father, my only living parent, abandon me at the hospital? Didn't he know how afraid I would be? Didn't he realize that I would need the security that only a daddy can provide? Didn't he care? That had to be it! He didn't care at all! To him, I was only a burden. A child too young to hunt, and therefore, I was no good for him. I was only in the way.

Dean immediately sensed my thoughts and began to try to control my fears. "Hey, it will be ok. Sam and I will be here the whole time. It will be fun. No school or homework, and we can play games and watch t.v. the whole time. The nurse even said that she could set up some video games if we want. Doesn't that sound great, almost like a mini-vacation?"

I appreciated what Dean was trying to do, and I gave him the best smile that I could accomplish. "Yeah Dean, that will be great! I'm glad that you and Sam will be here with me. I've never stayed away from you all at night before. I think that I would be really scared if you weren't here. Thanks again, boys. You two are the best brothers that a girl could ever hope for. I love you."

"We love you too, but that's enough of all the mushy stuff. We have to go out into the lobby now. The nurse said that we couldn't stay longer than ten minutes. You need to rest up after your surgery, but if you need us just get her to call out to the waiting room. We aren't going anywhere!"

"Do you really have to go? Can't you just stay here in the room with me? Please?"

"Not this time, Squirt. She said that we could come back in a little later after they have had a chance to monitor you for a while. I promise, as soon as they say we can come back in, we'll be here quicker than you can say Rumpelstiltskin. Come on, give me that beautiful smile of yours! That's it! We'll be back really soon."

I watched as Sam and Dean walked out of the room, giving me one last wave and a wink. I smiled until they had disappeared around the corner, and then one lone tear escaped from my eye and rolled down my cheek. I was lonely and scared. I turned my face toward the wall and sobbed. "Daddy, Why? Why did you leave me here? Daddy!"

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please comment!


	5. Chapter 5: Joy Ride

Chapter 5: Joy Ride

I had been home from the hospital for almost a week, and dad had not returned. He called to tell Dean that he was being held up on the hunt and wouldn't be home for a few more days. He proceeded to tell Dean that he needed to make sure that I was comfortable, to make sure that my arm was healing appropriately, to make sure that Sam did all of his chores, to make sure that I had everything that I wanted, and most of all to make sure that we all stayed safe. Dean already knew to do all of this; he had been taking care of Sammy and me since he was four. However, he listened carefully to dad as he gave him specific instructions for everything that he wanted him to do, and answered in his most respectful tone of voice. Dean had learned long ago that it was always in his best interest to show dad complete attention and respect. After he hung up the phone, Dean grumbled, "He thinks I don't know how to do anything", but that was as far as he ventured. As far as Dean was concerned, his dad's words were law and gospel.

I was beginning to feel very restless; I had been stuck inside for almost two weeks now. I knew that Dean had to be getting pretty tired of the four walls of our motel room too. He had hardly left my side since the accident, and I knew how he loved to be outside wild and free. Sam had been outside plenty completing his daily PT and his chores, but he hadn't been able to do anything fun. I knew that it was time to get this group of Winchesters out into the sun for some R&R.

"Dean, Can we go somewhere today? I'm tired of just sitting here doing nothing! We need to do something fun."

"Kellie, you know that I would love to do something, but dad said that I had to make sure that you stayed safe and comfortable. If anything were to happen, he would be furious!"

"Nothing's going to happen, Dean. I feel fine; I'm just tired of being trapped indoors. We all need a break."

" I know, but I don't think we should. Let's at least wait until dad gets back from his hunt; then he can give us permission to go."

"Dean, who knows how long that will be? It could be days or even weeks before he comes back. He may come in and be ready for us to pack up and leave. You know how he is, and if he comes back in a bad mood, he'll say no for sure. Please, Dean?". I gave Dean my best puppy-dog eyes; he could never refuse anything that I asked when I gave him those eyes. He always said that I reminded him so much of mom when I did that.

I could see that his resolve was wavering; I knew that he wanted to go as much as I did. I know it was manipulative of me, but I laid my head over on his shoulder and in my sweetest little sister voice said, "Please, Deanie? For me?"

"Oh, you rascal! You know that I can never say no to you when you do that. Come on!"

Dean and I rushed out of the room calling to Sam who was just finishing up vacuuming the carpets of the Impala. "Come on, Sam. We are headed to town!"

"All right!", he said as he quickly went to return the vacuum to the motel lobby. "Thank you for letting me use your vacuum", he told the manager.

"No problem. Anytime." replied the heavy-set man. "I like to see kids who know how to work. Your parents are doing right by you; you'll be a success one day because of them. You all are some of the most polite young people I've seen in a long time. Glad to have your family staying at my motel."

" Well, thank you, Sir. I'll let my folks know that you said so. Thanks again." replied Sam with a quick wave of his long arm.

As Sam jumped into the front seat of the Impala slamming the door behind him, he let out a loud, "Yeehaw! Let's hit the road!"

Dean carefully pulled out of the parking lot to avoid drawing the attention of anyone standing around. The three of us felt like birds released from a cage; we all began chattering at once. Finally, Dean yelled, "Hold it! One at a time! Does anyone have any idea where we should go? Sammy, what do you think?"

Sam looked at him curiously and then said, "Can't we just drive? Windows down? Hair blowing in the breeze?"

"Only you would worry about your hair blowing in the breeze, Samantha," chuckled Dean rolling his eyes. "But I must admit, that sounds good. How about you Kellie? What do you think?"

"Well, that does sound like fun! Can we turn the music up really loud? And I would really love a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a vanilla milkshake! What do you think Dean? Can we? Pleeeeaaase?"

"I'm with you on the cheeseburger and fries and the loud music! Let's do it! We'll stop by Frank's Diner and get burgers, fries, and milkshakes to go. Oh, and pie. We've got to get some pie."

"Of course, Dean. We would never forget your pie," I teased.

An hour later, we were cruising down the highway singing "Sweet Home Alabama" to the top of our lungs. I hadn't felt this good in a long time. There was just something about the three of us being together, laughing, talking, and just having fun that seemed to make everything better. It just felt right in so many ways and on so many levels.

"Remember that time that Daddy took us to that circus because they gave us free tickets at school?"

"Yeah, and Sammy cried the whole time because he was afraid of the clowns," remarked Dean.

"I did not! Well, not the whole time; just while the clowns were in the ring."

"That was so much fun," I said. "I wish we could do more things like that with Daddy."

All of sudden, I heard Dean say, "No! No! No!"

"Dean, what's wrong?"

"Behind us. It's the police, and he has on his lights. I must have been speeding. What am I going to do? Dad will kill me if I get a ticket for speeding; especially with you in the car. Hold On, You two."

With that Dean floored the accelerator, and the Impala jerked forward going faster than before. I held on as hard as I could, but still my heart was hammering in my chest. I knew that what we were doing was wrong; and I knew that things never went well for the Winchesters when we made bad choices.

"Dean, you have to stop."

"I can't, Kellie. I have to try to get away," replied Dean as he made a quick right turn onto a dusty country lane.

"This can't end well, Dean," said Sam. "You know this will never work. Just stop now while we are ahead."

I could tell that Dean was in full on panic mode; I believe doctors call it the fight or flight response, and my big brother was in full flight. Driving as fast and furiously as he could, he was as pale as a ghost and drops of perspiration dotted his upper lip. I had only seen him like this a couple of times in my lifetime, and I knew that when he got like this there was no stopping him.

I didn't know how long we raced down these back country roads, as Dean made numerous turns in his best effort to outrun and dodge the police officer that persistently tailed us. It was then that I noticed the sign up ahead, "Road Closed for Construction".

"Dean," I screamed. "We have to stop! The road is closed!"

Sam stated, "Come on, Man. You've got to stop. It will be ok. Dean. Dean. Do you hear me? Stop the car NOW!"

Finally, Dean's adrenaline must have returned to normal, and he was able to hear Sam. He began slowing the car. Once the car came to a complete stop, he just laid his head over onto the steering wheel and let out a long sigh.

From outside the car came a very loud voice, "Get out of the car! Put your hands behind your head and down on your knees! All of you!"

Dean let out a shudder and then said, "We are so dead!"


	6. Chapter 6: The Call

Chapter 6: The Call

"Son, you have one phone call. I would suggest that you use it wisely. Do you understand what I mean?" asked the Sheriff.

"Yes, Sir. I understand," stated Dean with a forlorn look in his eyes and a slight quiver in his husky voice.

Sam and I knew that Dean dreaded making this phone call, in fact, Sam and I dreaded Dean making this phone call. There was no way that this would end well for any of us. First of all, Dad would not be happy that we had gone out riding in the car three counties away from where we were staying. The fact that Dean was speeding, brought attention to us by the police, tried to outrun a police officer, got caught, and then got arrested and taken to the police station was not technically our fault, but Dad wasn't big on figuring out technicalities when his kids were in trouble. All he knew was that Winchester children had to learn from their mistakes, and he was excellent at helping us learn the lesson. He made sure that we thought long and hard before we ever made the same mistake twice. He wasn't abusive or anything like that; he never beat us or knocked us around, but he could definitely make an impression where it counted. I had a feeling this was going to be one of the times that John Winchester felt that we needed to learn from our mistakes.

Dean was shifting from one foot to the other as he called Dad's cell phone number and listened as it rang. I could see his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallowed deeply with each anxious breath. The fact that Dean, my happy-go-lucky brother, was this nervous increased my feeling of dread. I could also see his guilt-ridden countenance as he closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. I watched as Dean listened to the phone ringing, and then we heard him.

"Hello?"

"Um….Dad?"

"Dean? Everything ok, Son?"

"Um..Not exactly. Dad…..", Dean paused.

"What is it, Dean? What's wrong? Is it Kellie? Is she hurt again?"

"No, Sir. It's nothing like that. We are all fine; no one is hurt. But….um….Dad…", Dean was stammering trying to find the right words to say.

"Michael Dean Winchester! Stop with this foolishness! What's going on? Tell me now!" Dad said in his most authoritative voice.

"Yes, Sir. Dad we are at the jail." As Dean told Dad this, I watched as he quickly dropped his head. It was as if he couldn't look dad in the eyes even though he wasn't here. He was afraid of the disappointment that he knew would be in dad's eyes. I saw tears begin to pool in his eyes, and his voice became even deeper than usual.

"Dean, did I hear you correctly? Did you say that you were at the jail?"

"Yes, Sir. Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Son, we'll talk about all of that later. I'm only about an hour away; I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Dad, we're in Grayson County."

"Grayson? Dean, we are staying in Burke."

"Yes, Sir. I know, Dad."

Dad paused for a moment. "Ok, Dean. Well, that is even closer to where I am right now. I should be there in about 30-45 minutes. Dean, are you ok?"

"Yes, Sir. Daddy, I really am sorry."

"I know, Son. I'll see you soon."

When I heard Dean say "Daddy". I knew things were really bad. It had been several years since he had called him that, and the fact that he reverted to it now, let me know that Dean was scared. He wasn't necessarily afraid of Dad but of the situation that we were in. He knew that we had crossed the line this time, and that there could be consequences that none of us wanted to think about. What if the Sheriff called DSS? Would they find out that dad had been gone for almost two weeks while Sam and I were under the sole care of our sixteen-year-old brother? Would they realize that we were basically homeless living from one hotel to another? Would they take us away from Dad? None of us could fathom the possibility of living without our father, or separated from each other. It was then that I realized the heavy burden of responsibility that weighed upon Dean's shoulders at all times. No wonder he was always obeying Dad to the letter of the law; no wonder that he was always warning Sam and me about following the rules and being careful. He constantly lived with the pressure of keeping us looking like a "normal, American family" when we were anything but that. A new respect entered my very being that day for Dean and all that he had endured for the last twelve years. I purposed that I would try harder in the future to be more of a help than a hindrance to Dean

Dean walked back over to the sheriff. "I talked to my dad. He said that he will be here in 30-45 minutes. I also wanted to tell you that I'm really sorry; not just because I got caught, but because it happened in the first place. I knew better than to run, and I apologize for being so disrespectful and resisting my consequences. I would really like to tell your deputy as well, if that would be possible."

The sheriff paused for a moment trying to consider whether he was being conned, but then he said, "Son, you seem like a nice enough kid who has been brought up to know right from wrong. Am I right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then what happened out there? The speeding I understand. Lots of sixteen-year-old boys speed when given the chance, but what I don't understand is the running from the law. Son, what were you thinking?"

"Sir, I don't know. I just sort of panicked. It was like the adrenaline kicked in, and before I even knew what was happening I was flying down that road. I've been taught better than that; you have to believe me. My dad has always made me own up to my wrongs and accept whatever consequences that came. You'll see when he gets here."

"I see," said the sheriff.

"Sir, am I going to jail"? I could tell that Dean was holding his breath waiting for the sheriff's answer. His face was tense and his green eyes were begging the sheriff for mercy.

"Son, we'll all sit down and talk about that with your father when he arrives."

"Yes, Sir." Dean walked over and sank into a chair beside Sam. He clasped his hands and leaned forward with his arms resting on his thighs. He let out a long, deep breath and closed his eyes. He looked as if he had the weight of the world riding on his shoulders, and in some ways, I suppose he did.

As he glanced sideways towards our direction, I heard him quietly say, "I'm really sorry. I blew it. I messed up big time. I'm so sorry." Then he quickly dropped his head before we could see the tears as they cut a path down his cheeks and fell onto his lap.


	7. Chapter 7: The Arrival

Chapter 7: The Arrival

Dean, Sam, and I waited quietly in the chairs to the left side of the police station. The sheriff asked us once if we needed anything to eat or drink, but we said "No thank you." I don't think any of us could really eat anything right now anyway. Sitting and waiting for your dad to arrive to find out that you have completely disobeyed him, disrespected authority, and gotten arrested does not really settle very well on the stomach. Dean had been able to get his tears under control, but I could tell that he was still very distraught. It wasn't like Dean had not been in trouble before. He had regularly been suspended from school for fighting, and he had even been paddled a few times by the principal when we were living in a school district that allowed corporal punishment, but I think the thought that he may receive jail time had taken trouble to a whole new level for Dean Winchester.

We heard our father before we saw him enter through the double glass doors. "I'm looking for the Winchester children," he said.

"Follow me," we heard a deputy say.

"Dean, Sam, Kellie. Are you all okay?" he asked pulling us all into a warm embrace.

"Yes, sir," we replied in unison, hugging him back. It was amazing how much safer we all felt with dad here to protect us. Somehow he made us feel, without saying a word, that everything was going to be ok. Just the very presence of John Winchester could erase every worry of one of his children or strike fear into the hearts of grown men. In our eyes, he was a giant, a hero, but most of all he was our father.

"Son," dad looked questioningly at Dean, "what happened? What's going on?"

"Dad, I'm sorry. I really am. I really messed up."

"Dean,there will be time for all of that later on," dad replied. "Right now, I just need you to give me the facts. Why are you here?"

Dean proceeded to tell dad everything that had led up to our presence in the police station. He didn't leave out any details or try to cover up any of our wrong-doings. He just plainly explained each and every event that led to our arrest and presence here in the Grayson County sheriff's office, noting several times that there was nothing that Sam or I could have done to change the outcome. He alone made the decisions that ultimately got us into the most trouble, and unfortunately may lead to him being sent to jail.

I watched dad carefully, looking for any reaction, as Dean told the story of our adventure, car chase, and arrest. I could tell that dad was irritated that we had chosen to go for a ride in the country rather than stay near the motel as he had instructed, and he was very displeased that Dean had chosen to run from the sheriff's deputy rather than get a speeding ticket. However, he took a deep breath when Dean finished explaining the situation, and said, "Kids, we will have a lot to discuss later, but for now, I'm here to help you. I'm your father, and it is my job to protect you. It will all be ok. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," we replied. We knew that dad was a man of his word, and if he said everything was going to be ok, then we knew that it would be. A feeling of calm assurance surged through my body, and my heart rate returned to normal.

"Dean, come with me; we need to go talk to the sheriff."

I watched as further apprehension quickly came over Dean's face and his body tensed with increased fear. He quickly ducked his head to avoid eye contact, but immediately lifted it once again when dad said, "Eyes up, Dean. Face your consequences like a man."

"Yes, Sir."

"Sam and Kellie wait for us over there, and no talking. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir. Got it."

As Sam and I returned to our chairs, Dad and Dean walked up to the sheriff's counter.

"Excuse me. I'm John Winchester, these children's father. I believe we have some things to discuss."

"Yes, Mr. Winchester. I'm glad that you could get here so quickly. Won't you come into my office? Dean should probably come as well since he is in the most trouble."

I saw Dean swallow deeply when he heard the sheriff make that statement. He looked as if he were heading to his last meal before execution as he fearfully followed dad into the sheriff's office. He cast a backward glance over his shoulder at Sam and I, and gave us a brief nod. He was trying to reassure us that everything would be ok, but his deathly pale countenance wasn't quite believable. I heard dad say in his deep, gravelly voice, "Son, stand right over there against that wall. Don't move, and don't speak unless you are spoken to by the sheriff or myself! Are we clear?"

Dean answered in an unusually quiet yet quivering voice, "Yes, Dad. Clear as crystal." Then the door closed with a deafening thud.


	8. Chapter 8: Consequences

**Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews. You have really encouraged me in my writing. I hope you continue to enjoy the story as much as I am enjoying writing it. This chapter has been hard for me because I want to get it just right. Please review.**

Chapter 8: Consequences

Sam and I anxiously waited in our seats, not daring to move or speak after dad's explicit directive. We also strained our ears trying to hear anything from within the sheriff's office that might give us some indication of how things were fairing for Dean and ultimately ourselves. Occasionally, we would hear our father's deep, gruff voice raised as a sign of frustration or disbelief, but we could not hear enough to satisfy our insatiable curiosity. At one point, when we could hear our father's voice most clearly, Sam and I glanced toward each other and then swallowed deeply and let out a significant sigh. We both knew that Dean was under deep scrutiny and neither of us wished that upon him or even our worst enemy.

We were both terrified for our brother, and the possibility that he may be spending time in the sheriff's jail. Not only was dad furious with Dean's obvious disregard for the rules and blatant disrespect for authority, but he also had to convince the sheriff that Dean would be adequately chastised, and therefore, did not need jail time to learn his lesson. We could only imagine the inquisition that Dean was enduring at this very moment. I was pretty sure that Dean's very life was probably flashing before his eyes. I quietly prayed that Dean would be brave and strong and able to withstand the intense questioning and extreme tongue-lashing that was obviously happening behind the closed door.

Finally, after about a half hour, the door to the sheriff's office opened with a slight creak. My eyes darted to the opening, and I held my breath waiting for Dean and my father to emerge from the room. I saw as Dean shuffled out from the office that his eyes were cast downward in obvious guilt and shame. His red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks also indicated that he had been crying; though, he would never admit it. My throat dropped into my stomach as I looked at the anguish that was written on his countenance. I couldn't help myself as I cried out, "Dean? Dean, what are they going to do? You're not going to jail are you?"

Dean looked at me with shame and remorse plainly displayed. As dad exited the room, he heard my cry and said, "Kellie! SIT DOWN and BE QUIET, NOW!"

With all of my being I wanted to run and grab my brother around the waist. I wanted to hold him and let him know that everything would be okay. I wanted to comfort him like he comforted me when I had a bad dream or got hurt or scared. Only my dad's verbal command kept me glued to my chair as fear coursed through my anguished body. I could tell by the tenseness in Sam's body and the grip that he had on the chair, that he was feeling the same pressure and fear that I was. We silently watched as Dean and Dad walked up to the sheriff's counter once again. My eyes pleaded with Dean to please let us know something. We often communicated this way when silence or stealth was required; and he instantly knew what I wanted. A slight shake of his head let me know that he was not going to be going to jail, and for that I was most thankful. However, we also realized that by the time dad was through with us, jail may have been a welcome relief.

I heard the sheriff say, "Ok, it will be a $150 fine for the speeding and failure to stop for a police officer. Also, the next three Saturdays, Dean will do community service. He needs to report here at 7:00 am, and the service will be determined at that time. He will be finished at 5:00. I just need you to sign here Mr. Winchester, and we will release your children to you under your care. Remember that failure to report, will result in an immediate warrant for his arrest and further fines will be accrued."

"Don't worry. Dean will report before 7:00 am, and he will give you no trouble at all. Isn't that correct, Dean?"

"Yes, Sir," Dean answered meekly.

Finally, we were able to leave the police station as dad ushered us out of the building. He had that look of pure frustration, and I could only imagine the thoughts that were whirling through his mind. He was probably thinking of some barbaric torture method that would teach his children a lesson that they would never forget. He plowed ahead, and then turned and said, "Get in the car, all of you! Dean, follow my truck closely. I will pull off somewhere up ahead, but I'm not sure where. I need some time to wrap my head around all that just transpired. I want you to know that I am angry; I am disappointed, and I am very tired, but I also want you to know that I love you and nothing you ever do will change that. However, I need to think long and hard about this one."

"We love you too, Dad," we said as we quietly climbed into the Impala.

We said very little as we drove mile after mile with dad's taillights

constantly in view. I think we were all exhausted from the events of the past several hours, and we were also apprehensive about our upcoming meeting with dad. We knew we had really disappointed dad and damaged the trust that he placed in each of us. We all dreaded looking into his eyes as he lectured us about the importance of trust and obedience, and we worried about the punishment that we knew would accompany the lecture.

Dean drove persistently without ever taking his eyes off of the road ahead. Occasionally, I saw him unconsciously bite his lip or run his tongue over his lips as if to moisten them from their dryness. He had a haunted look in his eyes, and a stiffness to his back and shoulders that told of the stress that he was under. From past experience, we knew better than try to talk to Dean when he was in this type of pensive state; his thoughts were his own, and he did not care to share when he was like this. So forward we drove into the vast unknown.

Finally, we saw dad signal that he was ready to pull over. He turned right onto a dusty gravel driveway of some kind, and Dean quickly signaled and turned as well. We followed dad as he led us down a long, winding path. Up ahead, we saw a small hunting cabin, and we knew this was to be our destination. Rather than return to the motel, dad decided to go to this hunting cabin for the night to give us any privacy that we might need. Hunters had set up these cabins several years ago throughout the countryside. Any hunter that needed a place to stay could go there free of charge as long as they left it better than they found it, and re-stocked any supplies that they used. Dad pulled up to the front door and climbed out of his truck. He came back to the car and Dean rolled down the window to see what dad had to say. "I'm going to go make sure this cabin is not being used. If it is available we'll bunk down here tonight."

We watched as dad walked up the porch steps and looked inside the front windows. He turned and motioned for us to join him. As was customary, Dean and Sam went to the trunk and retrieved the weapons that we kept stored in a duffle bag, and I headed toward the cabin ready to begin salting the lines and windows. We all had our jobs to do, and we knew how to do them well. Our very lives depended on our ability to protect and defend ourselves from the creatures that we hunted. Dad began building a fire in the stone fireplace, and before long we were all settled in for the night. Dean, Sam, and I sat on the lumpy sofa waiting for instructions from dad who had found some canned chili and was heating it on the stove. If it wasn't for the tension that hung thickly in the air, the evening would have been a very pleasant family campout.

After our dinner of chili and white bread, the boys began the dishes as I carried the bowls, spoons, and pots over to the sink. I also returned these items to their proper place after Sam thoroughly dried them. Once everything had been cleaned and put away, Dean quickly swept the floor and I wiped off the table as Sam made sure that the stove was spotless. Finally, it was time for the long-awaited conversation with dad that we all dreaded. We gave each other an encouraging look and headed into the living room to await our doom.

The three of us sat quietly and waited for dad to begin the lecture. We didn't have long to wait. Dad stood and began to pace the living room floor. Our eyes just followed him as he walked back and forth in front of us saying nothing. Finally, he stopped pacing and cleared his throat. He looked straight at us and asked, "What were you all thinking?" As usual, Sam and I waited for Dean to speak for us all. We turned and looked in his direction and tried to give him our moral support as he addressed dad's question.

"Dad, we just wanted to get out and have some fun. We didn't mean to go as far as we did; we just sort of lost track of time and distance. We were listening to the radio, and singing, and laughing; just having a really good time together. We had been cooped up inside that hotel room for so long, and we weren't sure when you were coming back. We were talking about when you took us to that circus a few years ago, and all of a sudden I saw the blue light special in my rear-view mirror. Well, you know the rest of the story, already."

"Yes, Dean, I do, unfortunately. I understand that you wanted to get out and have some fun, but I can't believe that your fun led to an arrest for you boys and your sister. Did either of you try to warn Dean that you were getting too far away from the motel and needed to turn back?"

Sam and I looked at each other and then said together, "No, Sir. We didn't even think about that."

Dad let out a deep sigh and said, "No, I don't think any of you were doing much thinking about anything." Then he turned his gaze back squarely upon Dean and said in a much louder voice, "You know that it is your job to keep your brother and sister safe. You did a very poor job of that today! You all could have been killed with that reckless driving you were doing. Eighty-seven miles per hour on a back country road full of curves and turns! Dean! How foolish could you have been?" Dad was now full-on Marine drill sergeant.

Dean just hung his head in shame.

"No! Don't you hang your head! You look up here, and you answer me!" yelled dad. "You're my son, and you answer to me when you make stupid mistakes!"

"No, Sir. I wasn't thinking at all. I panicked when I saw the police. I should have known better."

"Dean, it wasn't just when you saw the police! The damage had already been done by then. You were already goofing off so much that you didn't even realize that you were speeding in the first place. You had also been swerving in and out of your driving lane. The deputy was pulling you over to make sure that you were okay; he was worried that something was wrong with you. Instead of pulling over like someone with sense, you drove like a madman. I repeat, you could have ALL BEEN KILLED, or worse yet, killed someone else.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"Son, you're going to be sorry. I've taught you better than this. I've warned you over and over again about how important it is that you be a safe driver, especially when others are in the car with you. You know that you have to be proactive to keep from drawing the attention of the police. Dean what you did today was unacceptable! It was reckless, and it was dangerous. Do you realize all of the awful repercussions that could have come about because of the terrible decisions that you made today? Son, how am I going to trust you to be my wingman on hunts, when I can't trust you with simple responsibilities?"

I could tell that deep down inside, that Dad was not only angry, but he was hurt. We had betrayed the trust that he had in us, and it was going to take a long time before we could build that trust back again. I knew that the acknowledgment of this is what would cut Dean to the very core of his soul. He could handle angry dad, but disappointed and hurt dad was very different, and Dean didn't ever know how to make things right in that situation. I saw him literally cringe as dad asked him that last question. He knew that dad expected a verbal answer, but he didn't know how to give him an answer. How could he respond to such a stabbing question? He just looked at dad and finally in a quivering voice, he replied, "I don't know, Dad. I don't know. I just know that I will do anything, and I mean anything, to regain your trust. Beat me until I bleed, or punch me in the face until I pass out. Whatever it takes for you to believe in me again, I'm willing. Please, Dad! Please! Whatever it takes!"

Dad quickly pulled Dean into a man-sized hug and clapped him on the back. "Dean, I don't think any of those things will be necessary. I never expected you to grow up without making some mistakes, but because of our life, mistakes have greater consequences. I love you, Son, and I love your brother and sister. It would kill me if anything ever happened to any of you. If we lived a normal life and you were a normal teenager, I probably could just take away your keys from the Impala and confiscate your cell phone, and ground you to the house for a month, but we don't have a normal life and you aren't a normal teenager, and you know that I can't let something this important and dangerous just slide. However, I am going to do something different this time. You have responsibilities on your shoulders that no other teenager I know has, and you are ultimately responsible for Sam and Kellie's safety. To acknowledge this, I am going to let you decide on Sam, Kellie, and your consequences. What do you think is the right and just thing for me to do?"


	9. Chapter 9: Decisions

Chapter 9: Decisions

Dean gave dad that perplexed look where he lifts his one eyebrow and kind of snarls his lips to the side before he said, "What? You have got to be kidding me, right? You want me to decide our punishment? Dad, come on, really?"

"Yes, Dean. I am completely serious. You made some decisions today that could have affected all of your futures. You will be making more and more decisions as you get older, and you need to realize that the decisions that you make have consequences that affect more than just yourself."

"But Dad, I can rattle off a dozen punishments for myself, but for Sammy and Kellie? I can't do that; I just can't!"

Dad looked earnestly at Dean with compassion filling his eyes as he said, "Yes, you can, and you will, Son. You could have been killed today as well as Sam and Kellie. That would have been permanent, but this punishment that you decide upon will only be temporary. However, I believe that it will be an important lesson that you will never forget."

Dean was silent for several seconds, carefully thinking about all that Dad had said. Finally, he looked at dad squarely in the eyes and said, "I understand. May I have a few minutes to talk to Sammy and Kellie?"

"Of course, Dean. Why don't you all go back into the kitchen where you can talk openly and honestly with each other? I'll be in here cleaning the guns when you are ready."

The three of us rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen. We sat down around the table and waited for Dean to begin. He remained silent for a while pondering the situation and how to proceed. Finally, he began, "First of all, I want to hear what you have to say. Sammy?"

"I don't know, Dean," Sam replied with a tired sigh. "This is a tough one. I've never even had to think about anything like this before. It was always just whatever Dad decided. Now that he's given us a choice in the matter, I almost wish that he had just decided."

"Tell me about it, Sam. I have to make the final decision, and that just really bites! Well, Kellie, what do you think?"

"Dean, I don't know either, but I trust you completely to make the best choice."

We all sat there for several minutes just drumming our fingers on the wooden tabletop trying to think of an appropriate punishment. I couldn't believe how hard this was. There was a part of me that just wanted to tell Dean that we should just take a spanking and be done with it, but somehow when Dad had placed so much trust into our hands, it felt like we were just taking the easy way out that way. Then again, how was opting to take one of Dad's spankings the easy way out?

Finally, Dean looked at us both and said, "Do you both trust me to make the right decision for us? I mean really trust me? I know that I did some stupid things earlier today, and so I understand if you don't want me to decide."

"Yes, Dean. We completely trust you. We all made wrong decisions today, but we still trust you," replied Sam.

"Yeah! Besides, you've always had our backs! We know you'll do right by us," I said.

"Ok, let's go face the music," replied Dean with a determined set to his jaw.

We followed Dean into the living room and stood in front of Dad who was just finishing with the weapons. He calmly looked up at us and gave us a small and gentle smile. I could tell that he was trying to give us the courage to do the right thing and accept responsibility for our actions. Sam and I stood with bated breath waiting for Dean to announce what he had decided for our punishment. Though we knew we deserved whatever sentence was handed down and knew that Dean would be fair, it was still very difficult to stand and anticipate your fate. We cut our eyes diagonally to see Dean in our peripheral vision. I noticed that he had that pale look to his face again, and he was clenching and unclenching his hands into fists beside his leg. I also saw that his eyes held that piercing glare that indicated that he was determined to see this through.

Finally, Dean broke the silence of the moment. "Um, Dad? I think I'm prepared to give you my decision."

"Ok, Son. I'm listening," quietly replied Dad.

"First of all, I think that Sammy and Kelly were in many ways innocent bystanders."

"Now, Son, I will not let you excuse your brother and sister from their part in this…"

"No, Dad, that's not what I'm doing."

I was slightly taken back that Dean would interrupt Dad like that, but then again, once Dean sets his mind to something there was no deterring him.

Dean continued, "I'm not excusing what they did, and I do think I've come up with an appropriate punishment. The first thing that I thought of was a spanking, of course. The longer I thought about it though, the more I realized that they didn't deserve a spanking. They just wanted to go have some fun; they didn't ask to go that far away from the motel. They didn't drive over the speed limit, and they certainly didn't run from the police. In fact, they kept telling me to stop and pull over for the police. They warned me that this wouldn't end well. The only thing that I can think of that they really did wrong was to not remind me when we were getting too far away, and they contributed to the recklessness going on in the car."

Dean stopped for a moment and glanced toward our father to see how he was taking this information. Seeing that Dad seemed genuinely interested in what he was saying, Dean continued with his thoughts on the matter. "I thought about extra physical training, but then I remembered that Kellie can't do that with her cast. However, Sam can, and I think that is the perfect punishment for Sam. He's good at it, and it will give him plenty of time to think about different ways that we could have handled the situation. Therefore, I am giving Sam extra exercises for his punishment. Um, if you think that is ok, Sir."

"I see. Well, looking at your reasoning on the matter, I think that it is quite fair."

I saw complete shock and surprise written on Dean's face at first which turned into a sheepish smile as he realized that his dad agreed with his decision. He seemed to stand a little straighter and with more confidence as he listened to what Dad said next, "Son, what extra PT are you going to require of Sam?"

"Well, I thought 10 miles of jogging for the next three days along with 200 push-ups, 200 pull-ups, and 200 crunches. What do you think, Dad?"

Dad seemed to consider the suggestions that Dean had made, and then he looked at Sam and said, "Sammy, what do you think about Dean's decision?"

Sam looked straight at Dad, then over to Dean, and then back at Dad and said, "I think that is more than fair."

"Fine Son, then your punishment has been determined, and you will begin tomorrow. You should probably run on and get your shower."

"Yes, Sir." Sam turned and looked at Dean with gratefulness in his eyes and voice, as he said, "Thanks, Bro. I owe you one."

"No, Sammy. You don't owe me anything. Now run on, you jerk."

Sam headed to the restroom with a large grin plastered on his face. He stopped and looked over his shoulder when he heard Dad say, "Hey Sam. I love you, Son."

"I love you too, Dad."

"Well, Dean. I think we are ready to move on to your sister. Since, she can't do extra PT right now, what punishment did you decide for her?"

"Dad, I thought long and hard about this one. Kellie is young and impressionable. It is very important that she learn about the importance of safe driving. Since, we spend so much time in the library researching for our hunts, I thought this would be a great learning experience for her. Kelly needs to find and read at least ten articles about teenagers who are killed in car wrecks due to recklessness like drinking, drugs, texting, or playing around with friends or family. Then she can create a presentation that can be shown to other teens to warn them about the dangers of reckless driving. What do you think about that, Dad?"

The whole time that Dean was explaining his idea, Dad was nodding his head and smiling. I could tell that he thought Dean's idea was a wonderful thing. I had no doubt that he would agree to my completing this project for my punishment. Therefore, I was not surprised in the least when he looked at Dean and said, "Dean, I am so proud of you. You really put a lot of thought into this. Your ideas show a maturity in you that I was afraid was missing when I arrived at the sheriff's office this morning. Not only are Sam and Kelly learning from their mistakes, but they will hopefully be able to help other young people learn the importance of safe driving as well. Good job, Son."

Then Dad turned his attention back to me. "Young lady, you should be very pleased with the decision that your brother made for you. He is leading you in a good direction. Now, I think you'll be bunking here on the couch tonight. Why don't you go ahead and spread out and make yourself comfortable."

"Yes, Sir. I love you, Daddy. I love you, Dean."

"Love you too, Baby Girl! Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Daddy."

I could tell the time had arrived that Dean had been dreading. He now had to step up and present Dad with his plan of action for his own consequences. The momentary look of confidence that Dean had displayed during Sam and my turn was now replaced by that look of uncertainty and doubt. I could tell by his stiff body language and the occasional twitching of the muscles in his legs that his self-doubt and guilt had returned. I couldn't help but wonder how Dean could so quickly transform from strong and confident man into the fearful and questioning man-child. I lay very quietly listening; I pretended that I could hear Dean's heart beating at an unbelievable pace. I knew that Dean feared disappointing Dad more than anything else in the world.

I watched as Dean stood in front of Dad trying to keep his head up as was expected of him but having a difficult time looking Dad in the eyes. His back was rigid and completely straight, almost as if he were at attention. If I looked closely, I could see that he was barely jiggling his legs with nervous energy. Dad waited patiently for Dean to begin, but finally realizing that he needed some prompting to get started, he said, "Dean, have you made a decision about your punishment?"

"Um, Yeah,... I mean...Yes, Yes, Sir," Dean stammered. "Well, I have three days of community service, and so I figured I could count that as part of my punishment. I mean,...um...is that okay?" Dean looked at Dad with questioning eyes.

"Yes, Son. I think that will be fine. Continue."

"Then, I thought I would get a few odd jobs until I earned the $150 to pay you back for the ticket. I also think that I could probably do the extra PT with Sam for the next three days. I could also do the research project with Kellie if you think that would be a good idea, even though you know how much I hate research." Dean hesitated and quickly dropped his head for just a couple of seconds. I could tell that Dean was having a really difficult time expressing his next thoughts.

"Is that all?" queried Dad.

Dean quickly regained his composure and said, "No, Sir. Dad, I have to be held accountable for being so reckless with Sam and Kellie's life. It's my job to protect them, and I failed." Dean paused, and I noticed that he was biting his bottom lip again. I think it may have been in an effort to maintain his dignity, but somehow it reminded me of a small boy reaching out to his father for affirmation that everything was going to be okay. It also hadn't failed to register with me that he only mentioned being reckless with Sam and my life. I couldn't help but think about his life. Did his life mean so little to him that he didn't even consider himself?

Finally, Dean continued, "Dad, I think I need to take twenty with the paddle for endangering them, or maybe more if you think more would be better."

Dean stood there silently waiting for Dad's response. I looked to Dad's face, and once again all I saw was love and compassion. He was looking at Dean with a renewed appreciation for his almost grown son and his ability to take responsibility for his actions. Yes, Dean had messed up earlier today, but what young person doesn't make a few mistakes along the way? The difference was that he was able to recognize his errors in judgement, hold himself accountable for them, determine appropriate steps to rectify the situation, and then deal with the consequences of his mistakes. Yes, he was indeed proud of Dean Winchester. If only Dean realized it.

"No, Dean. I think twenty will be plenty. Do you want to do this tonight or tomorrow?"

"Well, Dad, want to is not really the phrase that I would use", Dean gave his father a slight smile before continuing, "But let's do it tonight. I don't want this hanging over my head all night. It's been a long and hard day, and I just want it finished."

"Alright Son, you know where we keep it."

"Yes, Sir," said Dean as he headed out to the Impala to retrieve the seldom-used but highly effective Winchester paddle.


	10. Chapter 10: The Winchester Paddle

**Well, this is it; the chapter that I know several of you have been waiting for. Dean takes quite a harsh spanking for his misdeeds, but remember he did ask for this. If you don't like spankings, please don't read. I do believe that this was probably the John Winchester's form of discipline.**

 **Thank you for all of the reviews; please keep them coming if you like the story.**

Chapter 10: The Winchester Paddle

The Winchester Paddle was a legend in its own right. Hand-carved out of solid hickory wood by a great-great-great grandfather Winchester, the paddle had been used for ages to keep unruly and stubborn Winchester boys in line. This paddle was passed from father to son upon the birth of another generation of Winchester boys, it was only used on male children, and only after the 13th birthday. It had made quite an impression on many young backsides, and Dean Winchester's was no exception. The Winchester paddle was only used on the most severe of infractions, and its impact was not taken lightly. Once applied to the seat of an errant boy, a burning fire quickly spread after the second or third strike; usually by the eighth or ninth stroke, the young lad was hard-pressed to stay in position and could rarely prevent tears from escaping. Only the stubborn determination of these boys kept them from bawling like babies; it was certainly not an experience that these boys looked forward to experiencing.

Dean knew all of this as he walked toward the Impala to remove the despised paddle from the glove compartment box. He inwardly debated his decision to ask for twenty with it. He knew that he deserved the punishment, but the uncertainty and anxiety that filled his very being as he stood bent over at the waist waiting for that first smack of the paddle was not something he desired. He had heard tales of boys who traded licks with the paddle just for fun, but he had yet to understand how that could be considered fun. No, Dean Winchester was not one who enjoyed the warming of his bottom; nor did he enjoy the humiliation of presenting his backside for roasting. Fortunately for him, Dad never required that he remove his jeans for the paddling, like some fathers did. He always said that "a proper paddling did not require undressing; the message could effectively be delivered through denim." Showing his emotions was not an easy task for Dean either, and therefore, to stand in front of his father with tears on his cheeks after his dad had just thoroughly tanned his hide was very embarrassing for the unusually stubborn young man.

All of these thoughts were flooding Dean's mind as he slowly walked back toward the cabin where they were held up for the night. He appreciated that Dad had been thoughtful enough to bring them to the cabin when he figured that someone was getting spanked tonight. Dean hated when he got paddled at a motel because he figured that everyone in close proximity of their room knew what was happening, and then he was embarrassed to show his face for a few days. He always tried really hard not to do things when Dad was around, but sometimes Sammy would get so annoying. Before he would even realize what was happening, he and Sam would be sprawled out in the floor punching and shoving each other as they rolled around on the dirty carpet. Dad would swiftly walk over, reach down with two hands, and pull them both up by the collar of their shirts. Most of the time he would just shove them in opposite directions and tell them to "cut it out and cool off". A few times though, if he had told them already to "knock it off", he would send Dean to the Impala to bring back the paddle, and then he would blister their backside.

Dean approached the steps to the front porch and took a deep breath. This was it; the time had arrived; the moment of reckoning! He opened and quietly closed the door as he entered. He stood facing the door staring out into the darkness of the night. He saw his reflection in the window, and he could read the trouble in his eyes. He thought to himself, "Dean Winchester, you are an idiot!" Then, he turned around and went and stood in front of his Dad holding the paddle by his side.

"Son, I think we have had a long and exhausting day. We have thoroughly talked about this situation, and I am convinced that you know exactly what you did wrong and why you are being punished. I think the time for talking is over. Come over behind my chair and assume the position."

"Yes, Sir," Dean replied. He obediently walked over to the overstuffed chair and leaned himself over the back. He knew to place his hands flat onto the seat cushion, spread his legs slightly, and keep his legs straight. He tried to keep his muscles loose, but he knew that with the anticipation of the first swat, muscles tended to tense automatically. He sensed Dad's presence as he came around and stood to the left side of him. He quickly cut his eyes around to see exactly where Dad was located; then seeing that Dad was almost prepared to start, he quickly dropped his head back down burrowing his face into the top of the cushion. He felt his knees slightly buckle and then re-straighten, and he had that cold, clammy feeling that you get when you're going to be carsick. It was then that he felt, before he heard, the paddle slam into his rear-end.

His head jerked back instantly and his eyes rolled upward. His eyelids momentarily closed and he stifled any response. He had forgotten how effective his father was with that paddle, but one good smack, and it all came flooding back to him. He took a deep breath, swallowed deeply, and said, "One". It was only moments before the paddle landed exactly on top of where it had landed previously. Dean was always amazed at the accuracy and precision that his dad had; he seemed to know exactly where to place the swats to have the most impact to Dean's anatomy. Dean clenched his teeth as well as his butt cheeks before saying, "Two".

Three more well placed smacks with the paddle had Dean rising onto the tips of his toes. He was finding it much harder to squelch his desire to cry out when the paddle landed, and his fists were now clenched rather than flat on the chair. He noticed that each time he called out the number now, his voice was just a little higher pitched and trembled ever so slightly. There were no tears in his eyes yet, but he knew that they would eventually begin to swell. "Five," he said. "Dad, can I have just a second?"

"Sure, Son. Let me know when you are ready."

Dean relaxed for a moment taking a few deep breaths. He clenched and unclenched his buttocks trying to relieve the pain that was growing as well as shuffling his legs trying to loosen the muscles once again. He turned his head to the left and let out a slight moan; he felt like cursing but knew that would only add to the punishment. He knew that his father would only be so patient, and so he spread his legs back into proper position and said, "Ok, Dad. I'm ready."

The next three strokes came fast and furiously connecting with the tender under curve of his upper thigh area. The first tears began welling in his eyes, and he couldn't help but let out a grunt with each of these swats. He once again turned his head to the left, took a deep breath of air in through his nose and released it out of his mouth, and closed his eyes for a few seconds trying to control his response to the smacks. Finally, feeling more in control, he said, "Eight, Sir."

Not one to delay, John Winchester landed the next two smacks in exactly the same place as the previous three, and Dean could not contain the "Ah, Dad!" that escaped his lips. His knees slightly buckled, and he felt himself tightly holding onto the seat cushion for support. His rear felt like it was on fire, and it was difficult for him to hold position. He couldn't speak for several seconds as his mind processed the burning sensation that was quickly becoming more unbearable. He knew that he was halfway finished, but the thought of taking ten more licks from Dad was making him feel like he could hyperventilate. After several seconds, Dean lifted his head off of the chair cushion and said in a cracked voice, "Ten".

As Dean waited for the next stroke of the paddle, he felt the first tear drop from his eye and slowly roll down his cheek. A moment later, the wooden board slammed into his backside once again. Higher than the last few swats, this time Dean was able to control his reflexes and did not move from his position. He quickly said, "Eleven" and anxiously awaited the next sting of pain. His Dad delivered the next four right to the center of his butt in quick succession. Dean slightly lifted his left leg trying to avoid any further strokes while also swaying his rear end from side to side in an effort to cool the burning fire. He was standing on the very tips of his toes, and he quietly let out a long, "Nooooooo. Please. Wait." His breathing was now somewhat labored, and there were drops of perspiration on his brow. The pain in his backside was radiating, and he could feel it each time his heart would beat. He reached up to his face with his hand and quickly wiped away any signs of the tears that were falling. The muscles on the side of his jaws were visibly clenching and unclenching as Dean prepared himself to receive the last five. In an almost whisper, he said, "Fifteen".

Dean held on tightly to the chair. He had given up trying to keep his muscles loose as now he was just trying to endure the last five swats of the paddle. He knew that it would be several days before he could sit comfortably without being reminded of this latest foolish escapade of his. In his heart, he hoped this might be the last paddling that he ever received from his father, but he also knew that it was almost impossible for most Winchesters to avoid trouble. Trouble seemed like a magnet that just drew Dean toward it with an unbreakable energy. No, he doubted this would be his last appointment with the paddle.

Dean took the last five strokes of the paddle as quietly as he possibly could. Letting out just a few "Ohs, Ows, and Ahs", Dean stayed in position until the final smack. He knew that Dad always saved the hardest stroke for the last, and so he was not surprised when the paddle slammed into his backside like a speeding freight train. He could not help but jump up from his bent-over position and grab his rear with both hands trying to quench the sizzling burn. He let out a loud, "Ow, Dad! Man! Oh, OH, OH! That hurt! Shoot! Ow!" He jumped up and down and round and round before slowly leaning over with his hands on his knees trying to get his breath. As he stayed bent at the waist, he closed his eyes, and let out a low rumble in his throat. He wiped at the tears that were rolling down his cheeks, and tried to regain his composure. No matter how old Dean was, the unbelievable strength of his father and that Winchester paddle never disappointed.

As Dean returned to a standing position, he put his hand on his hips and shifted his weight onto one leg to alleviate some of the pressure on his blistered backside. He bit the inside of his cheek and took several deep breaths. As much as he wanted to run off to be alone, he knew what was expected of him following a whipping. He waited until Dad laid the paddle on the table, and then walked over to him holding out his arms. Dean walked into the waiting arms of his father and laid his head against his father's broad chest. His Dad wrapped him into a huge hug and held him closely until Dean felt comforted. "Son, I love you."

"I love you too, Dad."


End file.
